


Teraya-Martaya

by PrincexofxFlowers



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Canon Dialogue, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Tarsus IV, Temporary Character Death, implied James T. Kirk Prime/Spock Prime - Freeform, mentions of Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincexofxFlowers/pseuds/PrincexofxFlowers
Summary: Teraya-Martaya: To put your arms around someone to show your love or friendship; to move, lie, or stay close to something.“Thank you, Mr. Spock. I look forward to working with you.”“As do I. Will that be all? It is getting late and I would like to meditate this evening.”“Oh! Yeah of course! No, that was it. Unless…”Spock raised an eyebrow at him.“Should we hug it out?” Jim said, raising his arms out slightly, as though that would entice Spock into his embrace.Spock stared at him, blinking once. “We most certainly should not.”---5 times Spock could have held Jim but didn't + 1 time he wanted to hold Jim but couldn't + 1 time he wanted to hold Jim and did(Technically it's more like 6+1+3 if you really want to count)
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 15
Kudos: 320





	Teraya-Martaya

**Author's Note:**

> *Shows up to this fandom ten years late* Sup nerds I brought fic.
> 
> This turned out to be more of a massive undertaking than I anticipated.  
> I tried to keep it as canon as I could, which was not as fun as coming up with five different instances myself but I'm happy with how it came out. It was an interesting experience.  
> Title and definition taken from the Vulcan Language Dictionary on starbase-10.de  
> I listened to Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi a lot while writing this as well as the soundtrack from Into Darkness if you want to set the mood.
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading!

As was generally the case when time travel was involved, things happened out of order. The first time Spock wanted to hold James T. Kirk, or rather, the first time this new, altered universe contained a Spock that wanted to hold James T. Kirk, he was very old.

He had already held another version of James T. Kirk numerous times before, but that was irrelevant because that was a different Jim and he was a different Spock. He wasn’t this Jim’s Spock.

Nevertheless, he was the first Spock that wanted to hold this Jim in this timeline.

And Gods did he want to hold him.

“You’re coming back with us, right?” Jim asked, eyes bright and young and achingly familiar but distinctly different.

Distinctly different, because this was not his Jim.

This was not his Jim, and, perhaps more importantly, he was not this Jim’s Spock.

It was for that reason he chose his next words very carefully- more so than usual.

Spock shook his head. “No, Jim. That is not my destiny.”

“Your dest- He- The other Spock is not gonna believe me, only you can explain what’s happen-”

“Under no circumstances can he be made aware of my existence- you must promise me this,” Spock interrupted, marveling at this apprehensive, stuttering Jim, so unlike his own, but no less captivating- no less earnest. No less capable of wrapping Spock around his little finger. How his younger alternate self had managed to withstand this Jim so far was a mystery to him.

“You’re telling me I-I I can’t tell you that I’m following your own orders? Why not? What happens?”

“Jim, this is one rule you cannot break. To stop Nero, you alone must take command of your ship.”

“How? Over your dead body?”

“Preferably not.” He wondered again what had happened when this Jim and his Spock had met, how they cultivated a relationship so different from his own with his Jim. “However, there is starfleet regulation six-one-nine. Six-one-nine states that any Command Officer who is emotionally compromised by the mission at hand must resign said command.”

Jim was quiet for a moment, visibly processing Spock’s words and working through them in an endearing way that pulled at Spock’s heart in his side. “So you’re- y-you’re saying that I have to emotionally... compromise you… guys.”

“Jim… I just lost my planet. I can tell you I am emotionally compromised. What you must do is get me to show it.”

There was a gravity in Jim’s eyes as he looked at Spock, and there, for the first time, he could see the beginning flames of the captain he had known- the captain this Jim would grow to be.

“Aye then, Laddie. Live or die, let’s get this over with,” Mr. Scott’s voice called.

Jim stared at him a moment longer, the burning in his eyes still there but joined by apprehension. Spock could see him thinking ahead, checking his resolve. He turned towards the transporter and looked back at him only once, resolve found, determination renewed.

“Coming back in time, changing history,” Jim said, leaning over and regarding him carefully. “That’s cheating.” There was the vaguest hint of amusement on his face, teasing almost.

Spock nodded, shameless and pleased to be able to elicit such a response even though he got the sense it wasn’t really him that had caused it. “A trick I learned from an old friend.”

Jim lowered his gaze and Spock could tell he was thinking about the idea of his own Spock ever calling him friend and once again he found himself wanting to embrace this Jim who seemed to have had a much rougher start than his own.

Instead, he turned and started up the machine. Instead, he gave Jim a customary ta’al. Instead, he said, with every genuine fiber of his being, “Live long, and prosper.”

And then Jim was gone.

He had not held him.

Because this Jim was not his to hold.

\---

Less than an hour later found Jim on the bridge of The Enterprise- a ship he was Not the captain of- being strangled by Spock- a man who was Not his friend- after getting his ass handed to him in a fist fight.

\-----

“I foresee a complication. The design of this ship is far more advanced than I had anticipated.” Spock said as they boarded the ship. He was unsure if he would be able to pilot it and complete his part of their plan.

Their plan. Gods what was the universe coming to? He and Jim Kirk had come up with a plan.

“Voice print and facial recognition analysis enabled. Welcome back, Ambassador Spock,” a computerized voice responded to him.

Spock paused.

“Wow, that’s weird,” Jim said in a voice that suggested he found the situation to be exactly the opposite. He avoided making eye contact and quickly moved past Spock, further into the ship.

Spock would address that in a moment. “Computer, what is your manufacturing origin?”

“Stardate twenty three eighty seven. Commissioned by the Vulcan Science Academy.”

But that was impossible. Not only had that date not happened yet, but the Vulcan Science Academy was…

Spock turned to hurry after Jim. Clearly there was something he knew that Spock did not, which was, put lightly, unnerving.

“It appears that you have been keeping important information from me.”

“You’ll be able to fly this thing, right?” Jim asked, completely ignoring the question. It did not take excessive use of logic to interpret the evasion as confirmation of his statement. He didn’t even look slightly guilty.

“Something tells me I already have,” he said, careful to keep his tone neutral. It would not do to engage in an argument now. He would acquire answers later. If they survived.

Jim stared at him for a moment, as if he was waiting for Spock to hang on to the subject, but when he did not, Jim simply wished him good luck and turned to leave.

“Jim,” Spock called after him. “The statistical likelihood that our plan will succeed is less than four point three percent.”

“It’ll work,” Jim said confidently.

“In the event that I do not return, please tell Lieutenant Uhura-”

“Spock,” Jim interrupted him. “It’ll work.” There was a quality to his voice that was strangely reassuring. Illogical, considering he hadn’t done anything but repeat his earlier statement which had not provided Spock with much confidence at all, but for some reason this time it had. It had given him confidence. And, if he was being honest with himself, a small amount of hope as well.

And, if he was being even more honest with himself (he wasn’t), a highly unfamiliar and illogical urge to reach out and touch Jim- perhaps to clap his hand on his arm as Jim had done to him earlier or- or hold him briefly, just for a moment. Just long enough to be able to give some of that hope back.

He did not.

And then Jim was gone.

\---

He did not acquire answers from Jim later, despite the fact that they both survived, but he did happen upon them from a rather unexpected source.

“Spock, in this case do yourself a favor. Put aside logic. Do what feels right.”

\-----

It had been a long day of filling out paperwork and finishing up the last of his projects in preparation for his departure with the Enterprise on their next assignment.

Spock had enjoyed teaching but he wasn’t… disappointed to be moving on from it. And while he certainly wouldn’t say he had enjoyed the trouble and danger they faced going up against Nero, because it truthfully had been the worst experience of his life, he could admit that he could see the appeal to being on a starship. Danger and grief aside, he appreciated his time with the rest of the crew on the Enterprise. They were all of excellent quality and possessed the skills and work ethic to become one of the best ships in Starfleet history and he wanted to be there for it.

He wanted to see how Jim Kirk would get them there.

He gave one last look around his office, purely to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, not for any sentimental reasons of course, grabbed his briefcase, and left.

“Spock!” Jim called from across the front lawn of the Academy.

Spock paused in his descent of the stairs, looking up to see Jim racing towards him. A small part of him debated staying right where he was- letting Jim run the whole rest of the way to him- but such an act would have been petty and illogical when he had been intending on walking in that direction anyway, so he met Jim halfway.

“Hello, Captain,” he greeted when they were close enough. “Did you have business here? All but two of the departments have gone home for the day.”

Jim shook his head, panting slightly. “No, I was looking for you actually. I was really worried I was gonna miss you.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “Perhaps you should have planned your day better to avoid the possibility of such an event.”

Jim looked at him with an expression that seemed exasperated but then sighed and nodded. “Yeah, probably. I got hung up talking to Bones and Scotty about- well it’s not important. I didn’t realize how late it was until Scotty mentioned going for dinner and I realized if I didn’t get a move on I was gonna miss you.”

“We will see each other on the Enterprise in two days,” Spock pointed out. “What business could you possibly have that could not wait?”

“No, that’s exactly why it couldn’t wait!” Jim said hastily.

“I am afraid I do not understand.”

“I needed to talk to you before we left- before we were stuck on a starship together with no way off or away from each other.”

Spock began to feel apprehensive, despite his best efforts not to. He had no idea where this conversation was going.

“I’m sorry,” Jim said, looking Spock in the eye with determination.

“Pardon?” That was the last thing Spock expected to hear.

“I want to formally apologize to you for the things I said about you on the bridge… The things I said about your mother. They were unkind and untrue and I didn’t mean any of them. You were grieving and I intentionally antagonized you but it was only so that I could-”

“Jim,” Spock cut him off.

Jim snapped his mouth shut with an audible clicking noise.

“I am aware of the reasoning behind your actions.”

“Oh.”

“It was… a most effective strategy,” Spock conceded. Jim reached up to pull the collar of his shirt away from his throat and Spock did not miss the significance of the action. “At the time I was… truly enraged and incapable of continuing on as Captain. It was only because you took control of the ship that we were able to succeed as we did. You need not feel guilty.”

“Yeah well… I’m still sorry. It was a shitty thing to do to you and I wanted to clear the air before we left. If you want to transfer out to a different ship I understand. I’ll write you a glowing letter of recommendation, in fact.”

Spock felt a small twitch of amusement. Jim clearly had no idea that Spock’s intentions were nearly the complete opposite of his suggestion. He decided against correcting him.

“That will not be necessary, Captain. And while your apology is also not required, it is… very much appreciated. If you came to seek forgiveness, you have it.”

The smile on Jim’s face was beaming. “Thank you, Mr. Spock. I look forward to working with you.”

“As do I. Will that be all? It is getting late and I would like to meditate this evening.”

“Oh! Yeah of course! No, that was it. Unless…”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him.

“Should we hug it out?” Jim said, raising his arms out slightly, as though that would entice Spock into his embrace.

Spock stared at him, blinking once. “We most certainly should not,” he said, turning immediately and beginning his walk home.

He heard Jim’s laughter from behind him. “I’ll see you in two days, Spock!”

“Affirmative,” Spock said over his shoulder.

When he turned back to look at Jim again, for what purpose he had no idea, Jim was gone.

And if he spent an abnormally large amount of time later that evening trying to decide if Jim’s offer had been serious, that was no one’s business but his own.

\---

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

“Permission granted.”

“As you have yet to select a first officer, respectfully I would like to submit my candidacy. Should you desire, I can provide character references.”

“It would be my honor, Commander.”

\-----

Spock was meditating in his quarters in preparation for their upcoming mission to observe the planet Nibiru. It was to be a simple, no contact mission, but he felt that the secured peace and stability of his mind would be optimal, especially in the likely event that something would go wrong.

They would be arriving at the planet late the next day, provided everything went smoothly, and Spock knew most of the crew was taking the opportunity to enjoy their so-called ‘last night of freedom’ before their mission officially started.

He had assumed that to be the case for Jim as well when he heard a muffled voice coming from the other side of their shared bathroom. Perhaps he and Doctor McCoy were engaging in the practice of social drinking or… something else. Or perhaps it wasn’t even Doctor McCoy in Jim’s quarters. Spock certainly hadn’t made a point of finding out what Jim’s plans for the evening were.

Whatever was going on in Jim’s room, it could be ignored.

That’s what he told himself.

Then he heard the voice again. 

It was the same voice, Jim’s voice, Spock subconsciously corrected himself, and something about it struck him as being not quite right. There was a tonal quality to it that Spock had never heard before- a sharpness so different from the anger and outrage he’d been known to exhibit on occasion when his morals or his crew were threatened or called into question. 

Spock began to strongly consider getting up to check on Jim and his well being. He clearly wasn’t going to get any meditation done as things were.

And… he may have been a little worried.

There was a crashing noise, and then a muffled thump, all heard underneath the sound of Jim’s voice crying out again, and Spock was in the bathroom entering his override code for the door on Jim’s side in four point three seconds.

“Captain?” Spock called as soon as the door was open. The lights in the room were completely off but he heard shuffling and a groan coming from the vicinity of Jim’s bed. “Computer, lights at fifteen percent.”

Dim light filled the room and Spock could make out his captain on the floor by his bed, tangled in blankets. Jim visibly flinched at the lights and when Spock called out to him again it seemed to do the opposite of reassure him.

“Captain?” He approached the bed, intending to assist Jim in standing up, but Jim scrambled away from him, pressing himself into the corner where his bed met the wall. His breathing was loud and ragged and he would not make eye contact. In fact, he had pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them, holding his hands tightly over his ears.

“Jim…?” he ventured after a moment. “Are you unwell? Is the light bothering you?”

Jim gave no discernible response so Spock carefully knelt in front of him, making sure to give him some space. “Jim,” he tried again, softly but firmly.

Jim snapped his head up , hissing a sharp breath in through his teeth. His eyes were wide and distressed. His complexion was pale and he appeared to be perspiring an unusual amount given the current temperature of the room.

“Are you ill?” Spock asked again. “Shall I contact Doctor McCoy?”

“Spock?” Jim asked tentatively. His voice was small and quiet. Spock had never heard him sound like this before.

“Yes, Jim. Would you like me to contact Doctor McCoy?”

“No!” Jim blurted, reaching his hand out hastily, as though he intended to physically hold Spock there to prevent him from going to contact the doctor, but abandoning the movement halfway. “No,” he said again, voice obviously full of forced composure. “No, let Bones sleep. I’m fine, I just-” he ran a hand through his unruly hair, mussed even more than usual from laying down. “I’m fine,” he settled on.

“Fine has variable definitions,” Spock said. “Fine is-”

“As good as you’re gonna get right now,” Jim interrupted him. His voice was tight but he did not sound angry. “Fine is all I’ve got at the moment, Sorry Spock.”

Spock blinked, perplexed. “I find your apology to be unnecessary at the current moment.”

Jim snorted. “Yeah, well… take it anyway.” He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. His hands were shaking.

“You are distressed,” Spock stated.

Jim snorted again. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“It is illogical to refrain from seeking medical attention if you are aware that something is wrong. Doctor McCoy knew that his profession would require being woken up at any time of night to assist his patients when he chose it. Furthermore, he is your friend and as such, I can see no reason not to-”

“I’m fine, Spock, nothing’s wrong!” Jim cut him off again. “I just had a nightmare is all. No big deal. It’s nothing to go waking up half the ship for.”

A tense silence hovered between them.

“Doctor McCoy is not half the population of this ship,” Spock said eventually, unsure what else to say.

“My statement still stands. You don’t need to call Bones, Spock.”

“Captain, in times of emotional distress it is logical to desire the presence of-”

“Don’t call Bones, Spock,” Jim said, his voice firmer now, the same tone he used when he was giving orders.

“Very well,” Spock replied. “In that case I would offer to keep you company should you desire it.”

Jim stared at him for a moment, seemingly bewildered, before he shook his head abruptly. “Uh- yeah. Sure. Thank you. That sounds… that would be nice.”

Spock nodded. “I shall make you tea.” He stood and turned towards the replicator but Jim stopped him.

“No! No tea!”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him.

“I… I think if I tried to put anything into my stomach right now it would just come right back up.”

“You said you were not ill,” Spock said, inwardly surprised at how accusing he sounded.

“I’m not,” Jim defended. He swallowed and looked away, and even Spock could tell how dry Jim’s mouth was. “It’s just.. Just like that sometimes after… I have certain nightmares.”

“You commonly have nightmares?” Spock inquired.

Jim shrugged.

“Do you wish to discuss them?”

“No,” Jim’s voice was thick. “Not even a little bit.” He was still avoiding eye contact.

Silence descended again, and Spock was unsure if he should remain standing or sit back down.

“I do not wish to pressure you into speaking about something that may bring you distress,” he started, “but if your reluctance to speak stems from a misplaced fear that I will think less of you for whatever it is, I assure you that is not the case.”

“You can’t say that if you don’t know what it is,” Jim said tiredly.

Spock nodded. “A fair statement. But I can say I am nearly certain that my statement will be proven to be true.”

Jim smiled half heartedly at him. “What, no percentage down to the decimal point?”

“The possibility of my being proven wrong in this instance is small enough to be negligible as far as I am concerned. Should you wish to hear the exact number I can share it with you.”

Jim shook his head, the smile on his face a bit warmer. “‘Negligible,’ huh?”

“Indeed, Captain.”

Jim sighed and ruffled his hair, an agitated habit that Spock had noticed Jim did more often when he was tired.

“You’ve read my file, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Don’t call me sir right now, please.”

“Apologies, Jim.”

“My whole file?”

“Yes.”

Jim stared at him for a long moment, the laser focus in his eyes deliberate and calculating. “Where was I on stardate twenty two fourty six?”

Spock paused, unsure where the question had come from. “Pardon?”

“Where was I on stardate twenty two fourty six?” Jim repeated himself patiently.

“I…” Spock hesitated. “I do not know.”

“Then you haven’t read my whole file,” Jim said.

Spock nearly furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Explain.”

“There are certain things in my file that are sealed. Very few people even know they’re there, and even fewer people have access to them. It’s the kind of thing that I’m sure you would have had no trouble hacking into if you’d noticed them, but clearly you haven’t because if you had read them you would know where I was that year.”

Spock’s mind started whirling with possible explanations for why Jim had sealed documents in his file. He would have been quite young that year, no more than fourteen. He was aware that Jim had been rebellious his whole life, but surely he hadn’t done anything severe enough to warrant such a level of secrecy.

Unless it wasn’t about something he had done.

“Where were you on stardate twenty two fourty six?” Spock asked, feeling inexplicably cold all of a sudden.

“What, no educated guesses?” Jim asked. The expression on his face could be described as nothing short of bitter.

“I have a suspicion but in this case I find I would much prefer to be mistaken,” he admitted.

Jim shook his head. “No, come on, Spock. What happened that year?”

Spock swallowed unnecessarily. “Stardate twenty two fourty six was the year of the disaster on the Earth colony on Tarsus IV.”

“Disaster,” Jim said quietly, looking away.

“Indeed,” Spock said, feeling sick. “An unknown fungus destroyed the colony’s entire wheat crop, and most of the other food as well. Famine descended quickly and,” Spock stopped. Dimly, he noticed his own hands beginning to feel unsteady, and he clenched them into fists. “And Governor Kodos, in an inhumane and misguided attempt to alleviate the problem, executed half of the colony’s residents. By the time Starfleet arrived to provide aid, of the original eight thousand colonists, only nine had survived.”

“But their names were never made known to the public.” Jim was staring intently at the fabric of his sweatpants, picking idly at a nonexistent piece of lint.

“Your names,” Spock corrected quietly, slowly sinking down to kneel in front of Jim again.

Jim looked at him finally, for the first time in what felt like hours. “We were minors,” he said by way of explanation. He blinked quickly, as though fighting off something that had just occurred to him. “We were just kids, Spock.” His eyes were wet with tears, and there was so much grief in them- so much raw emotion, that Spock felt his throat close up at the intensity. “God, we were just kids. I was the oldest one left by the end and I tried to take care of the others- tried to keep them safe and fed but there were so many that I failed and- I- I could only save eight of them, Spock. I let so many of them die and I can still see their faces sometimes-” Jim gasped unsteadily.

“You were a child,” Spock interrupted gently. “You were a child in a dangerous situation, and you took on more responsibility than anyone could have expected of you. The fact that you took care of so many others and got eight other people out of the situation alive with you speaks admirably of your efforts and your character.”

Jim laughed, a bitter, ugly sound. “Eight doesn’t feel like it counts for anything when I let so many others down.”

“I am sure those eight people would disagree with you, Jim.”

Jim looked down, chastised though that had not been Spock’s intention.

“I am also sure that you did not let any of the others down. Though they did not survive the incident, they lived their last knowing that there was someone who cared for them- who was willing to put their well being above his own. You did not fail.”

“But-”

“Jim,” Spock said firmly. “Look at me please.”

Jim looked up at him. He looked miserable.

“You did not fail.”

“Okay,” he choked out. His voice was thick and he seemed to be, for the moment at least, incapable of continuing on with the conversation.

“Come,” Spock stood and offered his hand to Jim. “Let us get you off of the floor and into bed.”

“I don’t want to go back to bed,” Jim grumbled.

“To the couch then,” Spock compromised. “It is not good to sit unmoving on the floor for so long.”

“I’ve seen you meditate for three hours before.”

“That is different.”

Jim seemed to realize that Spock would not give on the matter and reached up to take hold of Spock’s offered hand.

Emotions flooded into him, overwhelming in their force and intensity. They were so jumbled and twisted, it was hard to sort through them, hard to interpret them. There was pain, and anger, and grief- so much grief. There was guilt, an alarming amount of guilt, and exhaustion and-

“Spock?” Jim asked, now standing in front of him but still clasping his hand.

“You wish to be embraced?” Spock had not intended to speak the thought aloud.

Jim’s eyes went wide and he quickly snatched his hand out of Spock’s- immediately cutting off the rush of emotions. “I uh- Sorry, Spock. I forgot you were a touch telepath for a second there. I shouldn’t have forced all that on you,” Jim rushed out, visibly uncomfortable. He quickly stooped and grabbed the blankets from the floor, balling them up in an untidy way, and dropping them onto his bed. “Sorry,” he said again.

“Your apology is unnecessary.” Spock’s mind was racing. He was aware that many humans found comfort in physical contact, his own mother had derived immense happiness from hugs and what she referred to as ‘snuggling.’ He had not realized that Jim was similar in that respect.

He could hug Jim. True, he usually disliked unnecessary physical contact with others, but he found the thought of hugging Jim did not cause him to recoil or feel even vaguely uncomfortable. Given the circumstances, it even seemed like it would be a good idea.

“Jim-”

“You know what, I think I will go visit Bones,” Jim said hastily. “See if he’s got something that’ll help me get back to sleep. Thanks for everything, Spock, see you in the morning.” 

Jim hurried out of the room, not bothering to straighten his rumpled appearance or even put on shoes.

Spock could have hugged him.

But he didn’t.

And then Jim was gone.

\---

“May I make a personal inquiry, Captain?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Spock,” Jim said before inhaling a mouthful of pancakes.

It was not uncommon for the two of them to eat breakfast together before reporting to the bridge, but Spock had wondered if perhaps Jim would forego the ritual after the events of the previous night. Jim had not come back to his quarters after his hasty departure.

Not that Spock had waited for him or anything, because he hadn’t. He had listened for the sounds of Jim returning to his quarters though, and none had ever come.

“Are you well?”

Jim raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of orange juice. “That’s your personal inquiry?”

“I am, as you would call it, making polite small talk,” Spock stated.

Jim laughed and it sounded much better than the laugh from last night. It sounded more like Jim Kirk.

“I’m good, Spock. How are you?”

“I am well, Captain, thank you for asking. About the subject we discussed last night-”

“Well that didn’t take long,” Jim remarked.

“Am I correct in assuming I am one of very few individuals privy to that information?”

Jim nodded. “That’s correct.”

“If I may ask, who else knows?”

“Besides my family and the Starfleet officials involved in the initial rescue and subsequent investigation? Just you and Bones.”

“I see,” Spock said.

Jim shifted in his seat and pushed his scrambled eggs around on his plate. “Listen, Spock, I know I probably don’t need to tell you this, but I’d prefer it to stay that way, okay?”

“Of course, Jim.” 

Jim sighed and seemed to relax after that. “Thank you.”

The raw gratitude in Jim’s voice was… disorienting. Spock had assumed his agreement was expected. After all, it wasn’t his past to discuss, but Jim seemed genuinely relieved.

“Although I would like to inform you that should you desire to discuss the matter further,” Spock began, holding Jim’s gaze when he looked up from his plate, “I am willing to listen.”

Jim grinned at him, a bright, warm, genuine grin. “Thanks Spock.” He drained the last of his orange juice in one gulp and stood with his plate to go take care of it. “I won’t, but thank you.” He clapped his hand on Spock’s shoulder as he walked past. “Chop chop, Commander. We’re due on the bridge in five.”

\-----

Admiral Pike was dying.

Admiral Pike was dying and Spock could feel every terrible emotion that went with it.

The attack had been unexpected. Spock was ashamed to say it hadn’t occurred to him that the meeting could have been used as a trap until after Jim had started talking about it to Admiral Marcus, but by then it was too late.

And now Pike was dying.

He was in pain, which was to be expected, and he was scared- scared of the unknown things that lay ahead of him, yes, but also scared- terrified- of what he was leaving behind. He was scared of the mess he was leaving for Jim, scared of leaving him alone like so many others had. He was scared for him and his immediate well being because he couldn’t see him- hadn’t seen him since the windows blew in from the initial lazer fire. He’d been so close to those windows, so exposed. He didn’t know where he was or-

Gods, he didn’t know what happened to Jim. He didn’t know if he was okay or hurt or-

Pike’s eyes slid over to him and something in them resonated within Spock.

This fear- this overwhelming concern for Jim’s safety in that moment- was not Pike’s alone.

It was Spock’s too.

His own fear.

He needed to find Jim, but he couldn’t leave Pike alone in this moment- wouldn’t even if he could. The thought of such an act seemed cruel. He could push aside his own worries for just this moment. He could find Jim later. 

He would find Jim later.

The moment when Pike passed was… almost sickening. Spock felt overcome with vertigo but also incredibly bereft of feeling of any kind at the same time. This man had once been his captain… and he was gone.

Spock heard footsteps approaching from behind him, but it wasn’t until someone knelt on the ground next to him that he realized it was Jim. He turned to look at him and felt relieved for the briefest of moments- relieved to know Jim was safe and mostly unharmed- but the feeling passed when Jim turned his gaze from Pike to him.

He looked desperate- like he wanted Spock to tell him that Pike wasn’t gone, that everything was fine.

Spock could not do that.

Jim reached for Pike’s neck, feeling for a pulse that wasn’t going to be there and Spock watched, feeling helpless, as Jim’s face crumbled- as Jim himself crumbled.

He rested his head on Pike’s chest, gripped the fabric of his uniform tightly in his trembling hands, and cried.

Spock had never seen Jim cry before. It was something he decided he never wanted to see again.

It occurred to him that Jim needed to be comforted, needed support. He needed someone to be there for him in this moment, beyond simply sitting by to bear witness to his grief.

But what could Spock do? He knew Jim craved physical contact during times of distress but the last time Spock had mentioned it Jim became uncomfortable and ran.

He did not want to add to Jim’s emotional turmoil right now. He did not want to further his pain.

Jim did not allow Spock time to come to a decision. Jim did not even allow himself time to properly grieve. All too soon he sat up and Spock watched as he forced himself back together- forced the breath in and out of his lungs, forced himself to release Pike’s shirt., forced himself to appear unaffected by the loss of the first person who had ever dared believe in him and encourage him.

Jim forced himself to stand. He placed a hand on Spock’s shoulder and for one devastating, terrible moment it felt as if that was the only thing keeping him from falling back to his knees again. It felt like Jim couldn’t bear to support his own weight under the added weight of his grief and his pain and the responsibility that they both knew would soon fall to them.

It felt as if Jim was drawing as much comfort as he could from the contact and Spock silently raged at himself because this was Jim- this was his Captain, recent reassignment be damned, and all he could do was sit and let Jim take what little he could from his unmoving form. Because he wouldn’t bring himself to take a risk and reach out to provide the support and reassurance he knew Jim desperately needed.

Jim’s hand lingered on his shoulder, even after he’d seemed to regain the final bits of his composure, and then squeezed lightly- as though he were providing Spock comfort in that moment.

He turned to leave without a word and Spock couldn’t bring himself to stop him.

\---

“I don’t want you hurt, but I want to take him out. You park on the edge of the neutral zone, you lock onto Harrison’s position, you fire, you kill him, and you haul ass.”

“Permission to reinstate Mr. Spock as my first officer?”

“Granted.”

\-----

“Captain Kirk, without authorization, and in league with the fugitive John Harrison, you went rogue in enemy territory, leaving me no choice but to hunt you down and destroy you. Lock phasers.”

“Wait, Sir, wait wait wait wait wait!” Jim said desperately, running across the bridge to the viewscreen, as if being closer to the image of the man announcing their death sentence would somehow help him manage to stop it.

“I’ll make this quick. Target all aft torpedoes on the Enterprise bridge,” Marcus said, callous and uncaring.

“Sir my crew was just- was just following my orders. I take- I take full responsibility for my actions, but they were mine, and they were mine alone. If I transmit Khan’s location to you now, all that I ask is that you spare them.” He paused, and Spock could see him drawing himself up, coming to some unknown decision in his mind. “Please, Sir,” Jim said, all traces of the desperation and stuttering that had punctuated his speech at the beginning replaced by serious, genuine resolve, “I’ll do anything you want.” There was a weight to his words, a conviction so real and unshakable in its resolve that it was almost terrifying- terrifying to know that in that moment, Jim truly meant it. He would do literally anything to save his crew. “Just let them live.”

“That’s a hell of an apology. But if it’s any consolation, I was never gonna spare your crew. Fire when-” the transmission cut off.

Silence reigned on the bridge, heavy and oppressive and no one dared move.

Slowly, Jim turned to face them all, an expression that Spock found hard to precisely decipher on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He looked around at the crewmembers assembled on the bridge and then looked down, and Spock, dimly, found himself trying to name the emotions on Jim’s face.

Shock.

Grief.

Hopelessness.

Resignation.

Spock had never known Jim to be resigned about anything before but it seemed to fit.

And then Sulu spoke, and it was perhaps the first time in Spock’s life that he felt he could have yelled from excitement.

“Their weapons are powered down, Sir.”

Jim’s face creased in confusion but then a voice came over the speakers, wonderful in its familiarity and in the implications of its presence.

“Enterprise, can you hear me?”

“Scotty!” Jim’s face lost all trace of the conflict from before, nearly instant in the transition from grief into the wide eyed expression that Spock knew meant his mind was working double time to try to take stock of the situation and see how he could find a way to turn the tables.

“Guess what I found behind Jupiter!”

“You’re on that ship!” Jim cried, outright joy in his voice.

“I snuck on, and seeing as I’ve just committed an act of treason against a Starfleet Admiral, I’d really like to get off this bloody ship, now beam me out!”

“You’re a miracle worker! We’re a lit- We’re a little low on power right now just stand by- Stand by!”

“What do you mean low on power? What happened to the Enterprise?” There was a brief pause and then “Call you back!”

The line went dead and Jim paused. “Scotty?”

No reply came and Jim quickly turned towards Spock, hurrying over to him. “Spock. Our ship, how is she?”

“Our options are limited, Captain, we cannot fire and we cannot flee.”

Jim was quiet for a moment, clearly running through a number of possibilities and scenarios at lightning speed, working them through to their likely conclusions, and Spock did not interrupt. They had a fighting chance now, and a James T. Kirk that was given a fighting chance was a James T. Kirk that would fight and fight and fight until he no longer could, and then he would fight some more.

The results of such a reckless technique had generally been successful enough that Spock trusted him to be able to get them out of any number of tight spots.

Jim looked up and nodded, evidently having come to a conclusion, and Spock got the distinct impression he was not going to like Jim’s idea, whatever it was.“There is one option. Uhura, when you get Scotty back, patch him through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Spock, You have the conn.” Jim turned to leave, clearly under the impression that the conversation was over but Spock followed after him, determined to talk him out of doing what he suspected he was planning on doing.

“Captain, I strongly object,” he said firmly as the doors to the turbolift started to close behind them.

“To what? I haven’t said anything yet,” Jim said flatly.

“Since we cannot take the ship from the outside, the only way we can take it is from within, and as a large boarding party would be detected it is optimal for you to take as few members of the crew as possible.” Spock followed Jim out of the lift, adamant that Jim would hear him out. “You will meet resistance, requiring personnel with advanced combat abilities and innate knowledge of that ship. This indicates that you plan to align with Khan, the very man we were sent here to destroy.”

“I’m not aligning with him, I’m using him. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“An Arabic proverb attributed to a prince who was betrayed and decapitated by his own subjects.”

“Well still, it’s a hell of a quote,” Jim said, willfully ignoring the clear implications and warning in Spock’s statement.

“I will go with you, Captain.”

“No I need you on the bridge!”

“I cannot allow you to do this!” Spock reached out and grabbed Jim’s shoulder, forcing him to stop and turn around to face him. He wanted to do more, wanted to hold Jim there and keep him from going to see Khan, keep him from trying to get on Marcus’ ship. He had an alarming sense of foreboding, an illogical feeling that if Jim left now, he would never see him again and the thought of that was unacceptable.

Simply and utterly unacceptable.

“It is my function aboard this ship to advise you in making the wisest decisions possible, something I firmly believe you are incapable of doing in this moment.” His voice was heated, as emphatic as he ever got but he could not make himself restrain his emotions.

“You’re right!” Jim cried, and Spock nearly startled. He had expected denial at every turn in this conversation, not an admission of the veracity of his accusations. “What I’m about to do, it doesn’t make any sense, it’s not logical, it is a gut feeling!”

Spock tilted his head and considered what would happen if he told Jim of his own ‘gut feeling’ that he would not make it back to their ship if he chose to work with Khan.

Jim took in a breath and looked away, and the desperate man who was on the bridge earlier was back again, standing right in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch this time. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.” Jim’s voice was breaking, riddled with anxiety and trembling slightly. “I only know what I can do. The Enterprise and her crew need someone in that chair that knows what he’s doing.” Jim stopped there, but there was clearly more he had to say. He shook his head slightly. “And it’s not me… It’s you, Spock,” he said finally, blinking rapidly like it pained him to say it.

Spock found himself lost for words, despite the fact that he had many possible statements he wanted to make.

He wanted to tell Jim he was wrong, wanted to remind him that Spock had been in the chair before and he hadn’t done well.

He wanted to tell him that every person on their ship looked up to him and respected him and trusted him.

He wanted to tell him not to go.

But he didn’t.

And Jim walked away from him.

\---

“Where is the Captain, Mr. Sulu?” Spock asked. He was trying to remain calm but some of his impatience slipped through.

“Our sensor array’s down, Sir, I can’t find him.”

The sound of the viewscreen coming on already had Spock turning around but it was quickly drowned out by the unmistakable sound of Jim groaning, and Spock felt his pulse elevate considerably.

Jim was marched into view by Khan, a phaser held to the back of his neck and his arm restrained behind him. “I’m going to make this very simple for you,” Khan said.

“Captain!”

“Your crew, for my crew.”

“You betrayed us,” Spock spat.

“Oh you are smart, Mr. Spock,” Khan said, condescension dripping from his voice.

“Spock don’t-!”

Khan stopped Jim from speaking further by striking him violently in the back of his head. Jim went down, dropped from view, and made no further noise.

Spock, illogically, rushed forward towards the view screen, fear taking root in his stomach.

“Mr. Spock,” Khan said calmly, “give me my crew.”

“And what will you do when you get them?” he asked, forcing himself to put aside his concern for Jim and perform his duty as captain.

“Continue the work we were doing before we were banished.”

“Which, as I understand it, involves the mass genocide of any being you find to be less than superior,” Spock said, his disgust for Khan was clearly evident but he didn’t particularly care.

“Shall I destroy you, Mr. Spock? Or will you give me what I want?”

Spock was silent a moment, weighing his odds, assessing the situation.

“We have no transporter capabilities,” he admitted finally.

“Fortunately mine are perfectly functional. Drop your shields.”

“If I do so, I have no guarantee that you will not destroy the Enterprise.”

“Well let’s play this out logically then, Mr. Spock. Firstly I will kill your captain to demonstrate my resolve. Then if yours holds I will have no choice but to kill you and your entire crew.”

“If you destroy our ship you will also destroy your own people,” Spock countered.

“Your crew requires oxygen to survive, mine does not. I will target your life support systems, located behind the aft nacelle, and after every single person aboard your ship suffocates, I will walk over your cold corpses to recover my people. Now, shall we begin?”

The simple facts of the situation were as follows:

Khan would follow through on his threats.

Spock could not allow that to happen.

Khan would, undoubtedly, double cross them if he agreed to the trade.

Spock did not know what that would entail, but he acknowledged that there was no sense in worrying about how to solve an unknown problem. He could only hope that his own preemptive countermeasures would be enough to negate whatever Khan did.

The trade was their only option.

Because the other simple, and perhaps most important, fact of the situation was this:

Spock could not- would not- allow Jim to die here.

He would get him back.

“Lower shields,” he told Sulu.

“A wise choice, Mr. Spock.” Khan moved suddenly then, kicking something on the ground and Spock clenched his hands into fists at his sides when the something clearly turned out to be Jim who yelled in pain before coughing harshly, still out of view of the screen. 

“I see your seventy two torpedoes are still in their tubes. If they are not mine, Commander, I will know it.”

“Vulcans do not lie.” Spock stated, aware that what he was about to say was mere technicality. “The torpedoes are yours.”

Khan beamed the torpedoes aboard the Vengeance and Spock was inwardly relieved to get the literal ticking time bombs off of his ship. Now they just needed Jim and the others.

“Thank you, Mr. Spock.”

“I have fulfilled your terms. Now fulfill mine.”

“Well, Kirk,” Khan said, sitting in the Captain’s chair of the Vengeance. “Seems apt to return you to your crew. After all,” Khans face lit up with the glow of a transporter beam and Spock willed himself not to fidget in anticipation. “No ship should go down without her Captain.”

Spock’s blood went cold at that, and almost immediately alarms began to go off on the bridge.

“He’s locking phasers on us, Sir,” Sulu said.

Spock raced over to the Captain’s chair, hitting the com button. “Spock to Transporter Room, do you have them?” He demanded.

“Negative, Sir.”

Cold fury crested in Spock’s veins. If Khan had double crossed them even before fulfilling his terms-

“Brig to Bridge!” a voice said hastily over the open channel. “The Captain, Dr. Marus, and Mr. Scott are here! They were transported into a cell!”

“Let us out of here now!” Mr. Scott’s voice yelled in the background.

Spock breathed out heavily. They got them back. They had Jim back. They could retreat. They could-

The ship rocked violently as it was hit by heavy phaser fire.

“Shields at six percent!” Sulu yelled.

“The torpedoes! How much time, Lieutenant?” he yelled.

“Twelve seconds, Sir!”

“Crew of the Enterprise, prepare for imminent proximity detonation,” he said into the open channel.

Through the viewscreen, the Vengeance began to erupt in a series of explosions, the assault on the Enterprise coming to an immediate halt.

“Sir, their weapons have been knocked out,” Sulu said, relief heavy in his voice. “Not bad, Commander,” he smiled.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Spock replied.

He allowed himself to take a moment to simply breathe.

They had Jim back.

His ominous feeling from earlier, while seemingly justified, had not come true. Jim was back on the ship and he would see him again shortly.

They had succeeded.

And then the ship went dark.

\-----

They were, surprisingly, and against all odds, alive.

The warp core had come back online at seemingly the last moment, and Sulu had been able to save them from their free falling descent.

“It’s a miracle,” the navigator said.

Spock released his harness. “There are no such things,” he said contemplatively, a sense of unease creeping in to hang over him.

The com sounded next to him and he accepted the call.

“Engineering to Bridge,” Mr. Scott’s voice said. He didn’t sound nearly jubilant enough to be taking credit for whatever impressive feat he’d pulled to save them all. “Mr. Spock.”

“Mr. Scott.”

“Sir,” he started, “You’d better get down here.” Immediately, Spock felt that sickening feeling in his stomach return, the unease crashing over him with enough force he felt his heart stop beating in his side for a moment. “Better hurry.”

Spock ran.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe but he ran.

Spock generally tried not to let his mind jump to the worst case scenario, having instead trained himself to come to the most logical conclusion given the facts he was presented with, but in this case the two options were one in the same and Spock did not like either of them.

If Mr. Scott was not calling to take credit for fixing the warp core, he was calling to inform Spock of who did. And if he sounded as serious and grave as he did, then it meant that whoever did fix the warp core was not in good health.

And if Mr. Scott was not the one who fixed the warp core then that left only two other individuals on the whole ship that Spock believed to be capable of such a thing, excluding himself.

And, with something as dangerous and risky and volatile as the warp core, Spock had no doubt that Jim had refused to let Chekov be the one to make whatever repairs had been needed.

Furthermore, the insistence that he hurry clearly suggested that the situation was time sensitive and that the person who fixed the warp core- likely Jim- was in need of immediate medical assistance.

Why, then, had Mr. Scott not contacted Dr. McCoy in the medical bay?

The implication was that whatever help the medbay could provide would be too late or ineffectual and Spock increased his pace, anxiety building strong enough that he could feel it beginning to slip through his usual iron clad restraints against his emotions.

He found Mr. Scott near the door to the warp core and even before he finished registering the pained look of resignation on his face, Spock knew that the situation was truly hopeless. Mr. Scott wasn’t desperately trying to keep someone stable and alive until a doctor from medbay could get there to take over. He was simply standing. Waiting.

He shook his head as Spock approached him, answering a question he had not yet asked.

There was nothing to be done.

Spock turned towards the door and stared. It took a moment for him to get his feet to move, perhaps subconsciously, illogically, attempting to delay confirming what he already knew to be true. His breath was hammering shakily in and out of his lungs but he finally rushed over to the chamber.

He looked down and he had to consciously force himself to keep breathing. “Open it,” he demanded, turning back to Mr. Scott.

“The decontamination process is not complete, you’d flood the whole compartment. The door’s locked, Sir.” Mr. Scott, to his credit, sounded just as upset about that fact as Spock felt, but Spock couldn’t stop to acknowledge it.

He looked back inside the chamber- back down at Jim- and felt well and truly lost in a way that he hadn’t since the destruction of his home planet. He felt like his extremities were starting to go numb but he knew they were receiving blood flow at their optimal rate. His mind was simply unable to register anything beyond his captain, his friend, lying on the floor inside the radiation chamber.

He knelt down next to the door, needing to be closer to Jim for all the good it would do with a thick pane of glass between them. His hands fluttered uselessly between the frame and the glass, unsure where to rest when they couldn’t be where Spock wanted to put them.

Jim groaned and reached up, the simple motion seeming to pain him greatly. Spock followed the movement, transfixed, until the door to the warp core closed behind him. Jim let his hand fall back down gracelessly and panted for a long moment.

He glanced at Spock, seeming surprised to see him there, and managed to turn the slightest bit to face him better. “How’s our ship?” he finally asked, looking up at Spock, his voice no more than a quiet breath.

He looked wretched, more exhausted now than Spock had ever seen him before, and, Spock despaired, more exhausted than he would ever see him again.

“Out of danger,” he answered softly.

“Good,” Jim panted.

“You saved the crew,” Spock said, because it was something to say and it was something Jim needed to know. His crew was safe.

“You used what he wanted against him,” Jim said, a small attempt at a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “That’s a nice move.”

“It is what you would have done.” And it was. That was why Spock did it. Because doing what James Kirk would do was the only way to win in that situation.

“And this… this is what you would’ve done. It was only logical.” The resignation in his voice was nearly tangible in its weight and Spock could do nothing but stare as Jim’s face started to crumple.

“I’m scared, Spock,” he admitted quietly, his voice small- so small. “Help me not be.”

And Spock wanted to. Spock wanted so much in that moment. He wanted to help Jim. He wanted to take away his fear. He wanted to be anywhere but here as long as Jim would be there with him, alive and healthy and vibrant as always.

But that was not the case, and wishing for a situation to be anything other than what it was was not logical and so Spock didn’t want to be anywhere else other than right there, with Jim. He would rather die than be anywhere else.

He kind of felt like he was dying anyway.

“How do you choose not to feel?” Jim asked, voice breaking, and Spock felt every restraint he’d ever put on his emotions break along with it.

Spock shook his head. “I do not know,” he said, voice thick and unsteady. “Right now I am failing.”

Jim looked up at him again, and Spock could see some form of understanding pass over his tired eyes.

“I want you to know why I couldn’t let you die,” Jim said firmly. “Why I went back for you.”

“Because you are my friend,” Spock finished for him, because he was scared in that moment- scared of so much. 

Scared to ask for any more than that here, at the end.

Scared to hope there had ever been anything more.

Scared to face a life without Jim Kirk.

Jim stared at him for a long moment and Spock was torn between feeling as though he shouldn’t let a single moment more pass in silence because there was still so much to say and time was, as ever, against them, and feeling like there was too much to say and there was no way to find the words for it all so he should let things go and simply be the comfort that Jim so desperately needed.

Jim made the decision for him.

He tried to say something, but gave up when it proved to be too hard. Instead, he pressed his hand to the glass between them, an action that clearly brought him great pain, but he was reaching out- Jim, who had never reached out for him before- was asking for comfort in his dying moments and Spock would be damned if he didn’t provide it.

Because he knew Jim thrived on physical contact. He knew Jim craved being enveloped in an embrace when he was distressed. He knew Jim wanted to be held but, more than that, he knew he wanted to hold Jim. He wanted to embrace him and cradle him close to his chest and provide as much comfort and reassurance as he could and he wanted to destroy this cursed glass between them that prevented him from being able to do so.

He pressed his hand to the glass where Jim’s hand was, habitually forming the ta’al- _live long and prosper_ \- and he watched in profound sadness as Jim clumsily moved his own fingers into the same position- _peace and long life_. He looked back up to Jim’s face and suddenly found it exponentially harder to breathe.

Jim was smiling.

Jim was smiling at their hands.

He was looking at their hands and smiling and tears were welling up in his eyes and Spock cursed himself for ever holding back from touching Jim before- for all of the times he could have held him and kept him safe and made him feel secure but didn’t. He couldn’t think of a good reason why he hadn’t.

Every excuse he’d ever fabricated, every instance where he’d let Jim walk away from him without letting him know how much he meant to him, it all seemed ridiculously pointless now.

Jim looked up at him, unguarded, and Spock saw all of the pain, all of the unsaid things. Saw the unspoken question: ‘Do you understand now?’

And Spock wanted to nod but he couldn’t.

He wanted to tell him everything but he couldn’t.

He wanted to hold Jim but he couldn’t.

And then Jim was gone.

\---

“Spock! Spock stop! Stop! He’s our only chance to save Kirk!”

\-----

Jim, against all odds, had woken up.

Spock could not find it in himself to calculate exactly what those odds were, but he also found that he didn’t particularly care to.

Jim was alive.

The events immediately after his death were a rush of emotions that even his eidetic memory struggled to recall. He had felt a grief so great, a sadness so vast, that he nearly succumbed to the emotions again any time he thought about them. Much meditation was necessary to compose himself afterwards.

The sadness had given way to deep and all consuming rage, so powerful he could think of nothing beyond revenge. His thoughts had regressed to mere repetitions of tasks- blood for blood, blood for blood, blood for blood, chase, chase, chase, apprehend, incapacitate, destroy, destroy, destroy- anything that did not involve bringing an end to the man who had caused Jim’s death fell to the wayside. 

Vaguely he recalled fighting Khan, punching him over and over and over, and at the time all he could think was that Jim, human- wonderfully, vibrantly, tragically human- Jim, had been unable to do any damage when he punched Khan. Spock, in possession of Vulcan strength and a near manic desperation and disregard for anything else at the time, had no such trouble.

Khan’s mistake, outside of destroying Spock’s captain, was assuming he was unable to break bone due to his reluctance to break rules.

The two were nothing alike, and neither of them meant anything to Spock in the face of his grief.

He would break every bone in Khan’s body, and every rule he had to to accomplish it.

The only thing that stopped him was Nyota telling him there was a chance to save Jim.

And so his vigil began. Doctor McCoy hadn’t allowed anyone except his own medical staff in Jim’s room the first few days, saying things were too touch and go and he didn’t need any extra bodies taking up space in the room, but Spock went to the hospital every day and waited until McCoy had time to give him an update. When McCoy finally deemed Jim stable enough to allow visitors to sit with him, even though he was still unconscious, Spock was the first one in. 

The first time he sat with him, he found himself struggling to maintain his usual calm composure. He was so overwhelmed by the monitors displaying Jim’s improving vitals that for a long while, all he could do was stare at the readouts, trying to convince himself to believe that they were there and real. Once that was accomplished, he found himself unable to keep from staring at Jim and trying to reconcile the indisputable signs of life on the screens in front of him with the unmoving man in the biobed. 

Having never brought a man back from the dead before, Doctor McCoy could offer no definitive timeline of when he expected Jim to wake up, only that he would.

When Spock wasn’t in mandatory debriefs and meetings, he was in Jim’s hospital room, waiting. He made sure to stay out of Doctor McCoy’s way, and after the first few days, the man stopped trying to get him to leave. Frequently they sat with each other quietly- an unexpected but welcome form of solidarity.

It was during one such silent vigil that Jim’s vitals began to change from their usual calm assurances. Doctor McCoy was on his feet instantly, striding over to get a closer look at the screens, and Spock desperately wanted to join him but he knew that if something was wrong then McCoy would need room to work. He sat, rigid and tense in his seat, barely breathing while he waited for an explanation.

“He’s… he’s waking up,” McCoy said quietly. “By God, Spock, he’s waking up!” His voice took on a trembling quality but he sounded undoubtably joyous.

Spock stood up from his seat, but still refrained from approaching the bed.

Jim jolted in the biobed, waking up with a sharp inhale. He lay there gasping for a moment, eyes fluttering closed again.

Spock ceased breathing altogether.

Jim opened his eyes again and looked around and that was what did it. That was when Spock’s brain checked out. He never thought he’d see those eyes again, awake and alert as they were. The last time he’d seen them they were glazed over with pain that quickly faded only to be replaced by a terrible emptiness. That emptiness seemed far away now, relegated to being nothing more than a horrible traumatic memory that Spock would have to come to terms with eventually.

He could do that.

He would do that.

He would do anything he had to now because Jim was alive and that was the only thing that mattered.

Doctor McCoy moved to the other side of the bed and Spock found himself the sole subject of Jim’s unrelenting gaze. They had been talking but Spock had not paid attention to what they discussed, too absorbed with trying to reign in his emotions.

In the face of the open, tender smile on Jim’s face, Spock could do nothing but approach the bed, taking in the sight of Jim in front of him, living and breathing and smiling as if he’d never stopped.

“You saved my life,” Jim said.

Spock most certainly had not. Spock had succumbed to his base emotions and in fact had nearly ruined all chance they had of using Khan’s blood to bring Jim back.

“Uhura and I had something to do with it too, you know,” McCoy quipped.

“You saved my life, Captain,” Spock said, finally finding his voice, “and the lives of-”

“Spock just-” Jim cut him off. “Thank you.”

He looked tired, but it was a normal, expected weariness, so different from the merciless exhaustion that had plagued him after the warp core.

“You are welcome, Jim.”

Jim fell asleep quickly after that and McCoy, after satisfying himself with double checking Jim’s vitals and adjusting some settings on his IV, kicked Spock out of the room.

“He woke up. His vitals are stable. I saw it. You saw it. I saw you see it. Go home now.”

“But, Doctor-”

“No. I’m your doctor too and don’t think I haven’t noticed you not taking care of yourself. When was the last time you ate?”

“Vulcans do not require as much-”

“I am your CMO,” McCoy said firmly. “Don’t make me pull rank on you, Spock. Now you go home and extract whatever universe juice you get from meditating or whatever and then you eat real honest food, you hear me?”

“I do not extract ‘universe juice’ from-”

“Three days, Spock,” McCoy interrupted him again, an act which Spock feared would become a habit purely from this conversation alone. “I don’t want to see you back here for three days. You need to spend some time on yourself in your own space, not glued to Jim’s bedside.”

Spock opened his mouth to object but this time McCoy cut him off before he even began to speak.

“I have every alarm known to modern medicine set on Jim and connected directly to all the PADDs I own. If anything happens I’ll know and I’ll be keeping a close eye on him anyway. I’ll let you know if anything changes, okay?”

Spock closed his mouth.

McCoy raised an eyebrow at him. “I will make this official,” he threatened.

“I will go,” Spock conceded, if for no other reason than to avoid there being a record of him obstinately refusing an order as simple as ‘consume nourishment.’ 

McCoy nodded. “Good. See you in three days.”

The door hissed shut between them.

Spock stood in front of it for a long moment, staring. He was unsure what to do with his free time now. Perhaps, as Doctor McCoy had suggested, meditation would be prudent.

Over the next two days he did indeed spend a majority of his time meditating and he was not above admitting that he felt much more at peace with himself and in control of his emotions.

He was also not above admitting that, on the final day of his banishment from the hospital, he was grateful to receive a distraction in the form of a communication from Starfleet Academy requesting he perform a check up on his Kobayashi Maru program, a test he was pleased to see they were still using. The Academy was preparing to update many of their computer systems and they wanted to be sure the test would be able to continue running with the new software.

Spock was more than willing to spend an afternoon updating his program and making changes to it so that it would run smoothly with the new updates. He was not prepared, however, to encounter a weak spot in his code. After thorough investigation he discovered that it must have been the place where Jim had found a way in to embed his own code all those months ago. Spock had thought he’d cleaned out all of the bugs Jim planted but he would have to begrudgingly admit that he never had found the entry point Jim had used. 

As he worked to repair the code he thought back on his first encounter with Jim at the trial regarding his dishonest method of defeating the Kobayashi Maru. Truly they had come a long way from that confrontational interaction.

His own words echoed back to him from his memory and Spock, with the benefit of hindsight and a better knowledge of James T. Kirk, could see why his callous words had sparked such tension in their earliest interactions.

_‘You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk. A captain cannot cheat death.’_

_“I of all people?’_

_‘Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?’_

_‘I don’t think you like the fact that I beat your test.’_

_‘Furthermore, you have failed to divine the purpose of the test.’_

_‘Enlighten me again.’_

_‘The purpose is to experience fear. Fear in the face of certain death. To accept that fear, and maintain control of oneself and one’s crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain.’_

_**‘I’m scared, Spock.’** _

Spock inhaled sharply and jolted away from his screen. His eyes darted around the office he was using and discovered he was, thankfully, alone in the room.

He took a moment to breathe deeply, unsteadily, before quickly finishing up his work and sending a message to Dr. McCoy inquiring about Jim’s condition. He also informed him that he had taken more than enough time to see to his own needs and intended to visit Jim that evening as soon as he was finished reporting his updates to the Kobayashi Maru program to the test proctors.

McCoy had simply replied ‘Jim’s doing fine but I guess I can’t stop ya.’

‘An accurate statement, Doctor.,’ Spock sent back. He was not expecting to receive another message and so he was surprised when McCoy contacted him again.

‘Jim’ll be happy to see you anyway.’

Spock was unsure how to reply to such a remark so he chose to say nothing. He quickly reported his changes to the Proctor who had contacted him and informed them to notify him should anything cease to function as it should. With his obligations finished, Spock wasted no time in making his way to the Starfleet Medical building.

When he reached the floor that Jim’s room was on, he hurried down the hallways that had become nearly as familiar to him as those of the Enterprise. He was striding past an alcove designed to function as an unofficial sitting room for patients and their visitors- as Jim had not been allowed out of bed, Spock had had no occasion to utilize the space- when a voice called out to him.

“Spock!”

Spock turned around, almost without stopping, breath hitching in his throat and heart stuttering in his side-

Jim Kirk stood in front of him, leaning against the back of a sleek black couch for support. He was wearing hospital issue blue pajama pants and a matching white shirt - a marked upgrade from the hospital gown he’d been wearing last time Spock saw him- and standard non-slip socks. His hair was ruffled, even by Jim’s standard, but the bags under his eyes were lighter, and the easy smile on his face was unmistakable.

He had never looked more beautiful than in that moment.

Spock moved before he’d even finished acknowledging his thoughts.

He wanted to hold Jim.

So he did.

Jim, for his part, didn’t seem confused or even surprised by the sudden unprecedented embrace. He merely allowed Spock to wrap his arms around him and, after a beat, brought his own hands up to fist loosely in the fabric of Spock’s shirt at his sides.

Spock buried his nose in the hair at the crown of Jim’s head, inhaling deeply. He smelled of the standard hospital soap that claimed to be odorless yet still managed to have its own distinctive smell, but he was warm in Spock’s arms and Spock could feel the motion of Jim’s lungs expanding, his torso moving steadily with each breath.

“Doctor McCoy did not inform me that you were able to get out of bed,” Spock breathed after a moment, unsure why he was unable to inject more volume into his voice or keep his words steady.

“I know. I asked him not to,” Jim said. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Spock merely tightened his arms around Jim and didn’t say anything. Jim didn’t question him and Spock was grateful for the fact because he wasn’t certain he would be able to let go any time soon.

“You are well, then?” Spock asked.

Jim nodded against him. “As well as I can be. Bones says I’m definitely out of the woods but he wants me to stay a while longer cause he has no idea what to expect.” Jim slid his arms from Spock’s sides around to his back, returning the hug more fully. “Which, I’m not gonna lie, is a little terrifying, but I know he’s doing his best. We’re all in uncharted waters here.”

And if Spock had underestimated the amount of sheer peace he would feel at holding Jim in his arms, then he was completely blindsided by the unfettered exhilaration of being held by him in return.

“We owe a great deal to Doctor McCoy,” Spock said. “A debt which, I suspect, may never be repaid.”

“His tab’s on me for the rest of my life, that’s for sure,” Jim joked.

Spock lowered his head so that his mouth was hovering near Jim’s ear. “Your life is worth far more than any amount of alcohol that even the Doctor could drink, Jim.”

A noise left Jim’s throat and Spock was unsure if it was supposed to be a laugh or a scoff or… something else.

“So… Hugging. We do that now, huh?”

Spock tensed but did not let go.

“I’m fine with it, Spock. More than fine with it. It’s nice.”

Spock relaxed only long enough to bring a hand to the back of Jim’s head and pull him closer, so that his head rested against Spock’s shoulder, before holding him tightly again.

“At the warp core,” he started carefully, slowly, lest he become overwhelmed again, “I found myself… regretting… the previous instances where physical contact between us could have been initiated had I not ignored or discouraged it.”

“I was dying and your biggest regret was that you never hugged me?” Jim asked indelicately. His voice was not indelicate- confused perhaps- but not inconsiderate, merely his words. Spock resisted the urge to further tighten his arms around Jim.

He was alive. He was not dying. He was alive.

“It was a regret,” Spock corrected. “At present, I am simply attempting to establish that physical contact with you… hugging… is not unwelcome… That we may in fact, as you put it, ‘do that now.’”

Spock felt the smile Jim pressed into his neck- whether it was to hide the expression (unsuccessful) or to make sure Spock could tell he was smiling (illogical but effective) Spock did not know. He certainly didn’t mind the action though.

“Noted,” Jim said.

They remained that way for some time- three point two five minutes to be precise- much longer than hugs usually lasted, Spock noted, but he did not object.

“There were regrets on my end of things too,” Jim said eventually, “at the warp core. They weren’t the ones I expected though.”

“Does one usually plan ones’ regrets?” Spock inquired.

Jim shook his head. “I think it’s more that one plans to avoid the regrets but when the time comes, if you haven’t accomplished something you wanted to, it’s inevitable. I could have regretted not getting to see more of space, or not making peace with my mom, or not getting to see the mission through to the end, but honestly once the ship stabilized- once you told me the crew was safe- I couldn’t bring myself to regret any of that stuff. None of it mattered. You know what did matter- my biggest regret?” Jim pulled back only enough to be able to look Spock in the eye.

“I do not.”

“My biggest regret was thinking ‘close enough’ when I asked if you knew why I went back for you and you said it was because I was your friend. My biggest regret was letting you think for even a moment that I felt anything less for you than what I really do.” Jim reached up and took Spock’s hand from where it had fallen to his shoulder and carefully, deliberately, pressed their first two fingers together. “I don’t plan to regret that again,” he said, maintaining unwavering eye contact even as Spock watched his pupils dilate- felt his own do the same.

Spock’s heart skipped in his side. “And what do you feel for me, Jim?” he asked softly.

“Love,” Jim murmured, tilting forward slightly, licking his lips, before continuing. “Uncontainable, exquisite, irrefutable love, Spock. Like I’ve never known before.”

“Please allow me, then, to help you become better acquainted with it.” Spock leaned in the rest of the way and pressed his lips to Jim’s. “For that is what I feel for you as well.”

Jim surged forward, winding his arms around Spock’s neck and resuming their kiss with all the determination and care that Jim used when he did anything he thought meant something.

Spock was not generally one for applying poetry to his daily life but he was not adverse to it in and of itself.

Also… Kissing Jim Kirk was something that deserved a bit of poetry. And Spock could think of few other ways to describe the weightless feeling building in his chest, the nerves singing with life throughout his body, the way that he felt, with every fiber of his being, that all that he was and all that he ever would be would belong to Jim Kirk for as long as Jim would have him.

“I love you, Spock,” Jim breathed when they parted, thumbs delicately stroking over Spock’s cheeks.

“And I love you, Jim,” Spock replied.

“Well I love both a’ ya, but if Jim doesn’t get his ass back in his biobed in the next two minutes I’m gonna confine him again,” McCoy’s voice cut in from behind them.

Jim rolled his eyes but the smile on his face was unmistakably fond. “Okay, Bones, you win. Don’t think my knees are capable of supporting me much longer anyway.” He said this last bit with a wink which Spock failed to see the relevance of.

“Jim if you were growing tired, you should have said-”

Jim rolled his eyes again but this time he punctuated the act by kissing Spock’s cheek. “Thanks for looking out for me, you two.”

Doctor McCoy grumbled but relented as Jim threw an arm over his shoulders, and Spock merely nodded and allowed Jim to pull him along by the wrist.

“There is nowhere we would rather be, Jim,” Spock said simply.

The smile Jim sent him was blinding.

\---

Jim had fallen asleep against his shoulder a mere fifteen minutes into the holo they sat down to watch in Spock’s apartment after he was released from the hospital, but Spock was feeling indulgent and did not wake him.

Now, though, it was getting late, and Spock knew they would both benefit from a night of sleep in a proper bed.

“Jim,” he said quietly, reaching over with his free arm to lightly shake his shoulder. “Wake up.”

Jim made an unintelligible noise that eventually coalesced into a drawn out version of the word ‘why?’

“Because it is late and you should sleep in a bed.”

“Too far away,” Jim muttered, shifting to lean more fully against Spock.

“It is less than fifteen feet from here to my bed.”

“Too far away,” Jim said again.

Spock weighed his options for three point seven seconds and then stood. Jim yelped as the sudden removal of his support left him flopping onto the couch gracelessly.

“We are relocating to my bed, Jim,” Spock said firmly, stooping to collect Jim into his arms, holding him under his knees and at his back.

Jim looped his arms around Spock’s neck, the smile on his face surprisingly wide for a person who had been quite deeply asleep mere moments ago. “Why, Spock, if you wanted to carry me like a princess, all you had to do was say.”

“I believe in this instance it was you who wanted to be carried ‘like a princess.’ You are perfectly capable of walking yourself.”

Jim hummed and tucked his head into Spock’s shoulder. “Caught me red handed. I had a suspicion you’d carry me if I didn’t get up on my own. You spoil me, Spock. You let me get away with too much.”

“I let you get away with exactly as much as I think you deserve,” Spock said, setting Jim down gently on his bed. He paused to pull back the covers, allowing Jim to shuffle under them and to one side of the bed, before sliding in next to him, pulling the blankets back over them both.

“And what do I deserve?” Jim asked teasingly, shuffling over to press up against Spock’s side.

Spock turned to face him and brought his hand up to trace two fingers delicately over the side of Jim’s face. “To be loved, Jim. You deserve to be loved.”

Jim’s eyes went glassy- wet from sudden emotion- but a warm smile graced his lips. He took Spock’s hand from his face with his own and pressed a lingering kiss to his palm. “Good thing I have you, then, huh?”

“Indeed.”

Jim shuffled even closer, tucking his head under Spock’s chin and throwing an arm over Spock’s waist. “Love you, Spock,” he said.

“And I, you, Ashayam,” Spock replied, folding an arm around Jim and holding him close- because he wanted to and he could. “Sleep well.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Spock did not point out that Vulcan’s did not commonly dream, and he did not point out that any dream he had would not be as blissful as his current state. He simply pressed a kiss to Jim’s head, reveled in the answering kiss placed to his chest, and closed his eyes.

He was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! Okay! I'm like. Ecstatic to have finally finished that. This is my first work in the Star Trek fandom and I'm thrilled to share it!  
> I intended to actually have Spock and Uhura still be dating, and have him gradually come to terms with needing to end the relationship because he had feelings for Jim, but by the time I reached the point where I wanted that to happen it seemed out of place and awkward cause I had literally never mentioned it before. So we'll just say they were never together in this fic.  
> Almost all of the dialogue from scenes in the movies were taken as direct quotes. I think I only added a couple lines in a few different places, but I tried to stay as close to canon as I could.  
> The tag after the part where they finally hug gave me quite a bit of trouble and I wasn't even sure if I was actually going to have one. I got three pages into one and then decided it didn't fit in with the rest of the tone of the fic so I cut it and ended up with the one I have now and I'm actually really happy with it. (I still have the scrapped pages though cause they were pure fluff and I will probably do something with them later)  
> Over all I'm actually kind of proud of this one.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
